


The Debt

by ShinobiCyrus



Series: PhannieMay Phanfiction [2]
Category: Danny Phantom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Gen, Kelpies, Merboys, One Shot, One Shot Collection, Phanniemay (Danny Phantom), Tucker-centric phic, but close enough, mixing up my Kelpies and my
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-12 21:02:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28766781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShinobiCyrus/pseuds/ShinobiCyrus
Summary: Tucker helping Sam break into a oceanic theme park was not one of his better ideas, but a worse one would be to let her go in alone. Or worse: with her idiot eco-activist pals who'd screw up and get her caught. She was a friend, he owed her more than that.“Plus I’m paying you," Sam pointed out.“Plus you’re paying me.”
Relationships: Danny Fenton & Tucker Foley
Series: PhannieMay Phanfiction [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2109078
Comments: 2
Kudos: 26





	The Debt

**Author's Note:**

> A brief one-shot for the Phanniemay Prompt “Folklore.” Special thanks my buddy Josi who encouraged me to finish this.

“Jeez, what a douchebag.”

“Gregor’s not that bad,” Sam defended him, of course. Tucker still enjoyed the vindication that she’d known exactly who he was talking about. “When you get to know him, he’s actually pretty sweet.”

“Yeah, to _you_ ,” Tucker said. “Guy couldn’t be any more obvious; he probably thinks I’m here to score points on some lame ‘almost outta the friendzone’ scorecard.”

Said douchebag was currently waiting safely back in the van with the rest of Sam’s activist friends, leaving them to do the actual work.

“You mean you’re _not_?” Sam mock-gasped. 

Tucker snorted loudly since rolling his eyes would have been pointless. “I’m here because I don’t want some noob screwing up and getting you caught.”

“Plus I’m paying you.”

“Plus you’re paying me.”

They made their approach from the thin urban woods skirting along the fence, each crunched leaf and snapping twig loud as noisemakers in the dark. Invisible grasshoppers gossiped over the brief sighs of passing cars down the road.

Sam’s silhouette stopped and turned to him. “Are you sure you’re up for this, Tuck?”

“If this is about what that white-haired anime boy said-”

“This has nothing to do with Gregor,” she said sharply. “You _know_ I trust you Tucker, I wouldn’t have asked for your help if I didn’t- but you don’t exactly have a good track record for these kind of places.”

“Oh come on, how many times are you gonna bring that up. It was fifth grade!”

“Most fifth graders don’t get panic attacks at aquariums, Tuck. Or public pools.”

“I _told_ you-”

“Or during Waterworld.”

“That wasn’t a panic attack that was an allergy to a shit movie,” Tucker insisted. “Look, that was all a long time ago. I got this now, okay?”

The grasshoppers opined quietly until Sam finally exhaled. “Okay, Tuck. I believe you.” She slapped his shoulder. “Now let’s do this.”

They crouched low the rest of the way, picking out the most dimly lit portion of the security fence. The top was twice as high as Sam in her thickest boots, they paused while she dug through her black backpack for something. 

“Uh…Sam?” Tucker pointed. “We’re not climbing that, are we?”

“Bolt cutters take too long.” 

He decided to ignore how she knew that. “Yeah okay, but that’s _barbed wire_.”

“Don’t be such a wuss.” Unrolling a fuzzy welcome mat, she jumped halfway up the jangling fence and threw the rug over the top, smothering the barbed wire.

“I miss nice, Sympathetic Sam. Can I have her back?”

“Nope, I’m Tough-Love Sam now.” Nimbly scrambling over the safe path made by her welcome mat, she hopped down and grinned at him from the other side of the fence. “Now hurry up!”

“I can’t believe I’m missing a raid with my guild for this.” He managed to climb up the fence alright, even with all of his gear, but he lingered awkwardly at the top, afraid of accidentally brushing the wicked razor points pressing close from both sides of his bare arms. 

As if tackling _one_ phobia wasn’t enough, tonight. 

When he finally made it down the other side- climbing down like a geriatric Spider-Man rather than risking the jump- Sam punched his shoulder. 

“Congrats, Tuck! You’re officially Trespassing on Private Property. I’m so proud.”

“Yeah, yeah, I feel the power of the Dark Side. Come on, let’s get these other felonies over with.”

“Music to my ears.”

For obvious reasons, Tucker had never stepped foot in _OceanScape_ before. A huge park famous for it’s claustrophobic corridors where the only thing separating the tourists from tens of thousands of crushing gallons of water was a few inches of glass walls? That was _Last Airbender_ levels of HAHA NOPE. 

Past midnight, the lights were off; empty food stalls, wide concrete paths made to accommodate thousands of people completely deserted? Tuck’s spine tingled from the horror-vibe. 

There was still the security, though. Rent-A-Cops in their VladCo uniforms walking their obvious patrol patters, waving around their flashlights like they were purposely giving Sam and Tucker ample warning to get out of sight. It gave him flashbacks of a childhood wasted on _Metal Gear_ and _Thief_ games _._

The only real tricky part was finding a junction to plug into the security camera’s CCTV network and feed them a loop. Tucker made sure to have a few programs prepared on his laptop for the job- even though he’d never actually done anything resembling this before, it was almost disappointingly easy. 

He almost didn’t want to ask where Sam had gotten the keycards to unlock the doors to the restricted areas of the park. Maybe there were a few bleeding-hearts working the churro stand, or one of Sam's activist buddies swiped it. 

They had to be more careful down in the narrow, winding hallways below the park. There wouldn’t be as much warning if a guard were coming around the corner, or they could stumble on somebody in maintenance or a handler working late. 

Good thing Sam had a map of the place’s layout, so they wouldn’t be get caught wandering. He had to admit, she was worryingly good at this sort of thing. 

Of course, they weren’t even at the hard-part. 

“Tucker?”

He stood feet away from the window, the eerie blue glow from the water drawing lines of shadow on his face. His glasses were full of the water’s reflection, keeping her from seeing how blown his eyes were. 

He counted his heartbeats. Quick successions, the tempo slowing as he got his breathing under control. It helped that it didn’t really look like water- just a still, glassy expanse of blue. 

For a second, he almost thought he spotted a drowsy ripple of movement.

“How-” He licked his lips, throat hoarse and ironically parched. “How do we get her out?”

“Him.”

He tore his eyes away from the tank. “Huh?”

“Him,” Sam explained bitterly. “They force him to take on a feminine shape to make his shows more popular. Really perverse sex-appeal for the park’s promotional posters.”

There is was again. Something was definitely moving, that time. Something that knew all the tank’s blind spots. 

_You knew what you were getting into_ , Tucker reminded himself.

“What do you need me to do?”

“You got us in, now we need something a little less high-tech and a little more…” She rummaged through her book and brought out an old book, crinkled yellow pages and the edges of its cover gnawed with wear and age. “Low magic. They’ve got engraved silver bands reinforcing the locks for the handlers and the cleaning crews to come in and out. I’m gonna see if I can weaken the bindings they use to keep him contained.”

Tucker looked at the book dubiously. Instinctively, he knew that kind of…stuff was _supposed_ to work, even if it didn’t make much intellectual sense. “You sure you know how to use that thing?”

“Relax, I’ll figure something out. Keep an eye out in case somebody comes by.”

She went up the narrow stairs leading up to the tank’s lip two at a time, leaving him down below with the hum of working ventilation and the heavy stillness of twenty thousand gallons barely held at bay. 

Tucker looked back at the water, somehow closer. He drifted inexorably closer to the window, shoes dragging across the concrete without really taking a step. 

He almost jumped back when the kelpie swept into view, a smooth movement of sleek, glistening black scales and white flowing tendrils.

Whatever it’s true shape was, it slid out of his awareness like water slipping through his cupped hand and left Tucker with nothing but fleeting, blurred impressions.

All except for its eyes, luminescent green and suited for places light couldn’t quite reach. 

Mesmerizing even through the wards and the glass, Tucker felt distantly at ease as though he were objectively observing events from someplace else. Someplace safe. 

“Do you remember me?” Tucker asked, no idea if his words could make it through the thick glass or the cushion of water separating them. He reached up and took off his glasses. The world went blurry and indistinct, all except for the glowing green eyes, perfectly clear as though he were seeing them with more than just sight. 

It’d been over ten years, and he’d been so much younger. Tucker had no way to know if the kelpie would recognize him, or if was even the same one.

Tucker put his hand on the glass. His heart didn’t beat faster, his mind didn’t imagine spiderweb cracks under his palm as though the glass were too fragile, threatening to break open and kill him in a torrential flood that would just as much shatter his body as drown him. 

For the first time since he’d been a little kid, thrown overboard and screaming as seawater poured down his throat, Tucker wasn’t afraid of the water. 

The kelpie’s shape blurred, an indistinct blob of shifting color impervious to Tucker’s squinting. 

A hand pressed up against the other side of the glass, silvery pale like moonlight and almost -but not quite- human. Not with webbed fingers spread flat over the glass.

The boy in the water looked at him, fascinated. His white hair swayed in the water, Gregor’s imitation all the more obvious and bland. Black-scales glimmered from the gently kicking legs, palemoon torso smooth, hairless, and lacking a belly button.

(On wow okay yes he was definitely male. Or currently male? As if gender wasn't weird enough, you gotta throw magic into it)

Even through the glass, the skin of Tucker’s palm tingled as though their hands were really touching. 

No one believed Tucker when he tried to explain how he’d survived. The world where inhuman, seductive shape-changers lured victims to the water and threw leftover entrails on the shore was old and comfortable. It made sense and didn’t burden people with questions about hunting ships, harvests of valuable body parts, glass prisons and dazzling shows. After a while, he listened to his parents when they told him to stop talking about it. 

Only Sam had ever believed him. 

Tucker told the Kelpie (named after the son of the researcher who captured him alive, like no one had before), “I don’t know if it’s you,” The tingling in his hands and in his heart told him it was. “But I’m here to return the favor.”


End file.
